


Prologue

by Penny_Quill



Series: The Drumfred Project [1]
Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Drummond's alive, Fix-It, M/M, NO DEATH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 23:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_Quill/pseuds/Penny_Quill
Summary: Want a Victoria where Drummond never died? Well that's what this will (hopefully) be, every week I'll upload a new chapter/'episode' so you can read as if nothing bad ever happened. Here's my first entry, maybe a little bit shorter than the others will be since this is more of just a fix-it no one died summary.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Scotland had been so perfect, the dancing and the divine midsummer’s evenings, it was simple, uncomplicated by the politics and polite societies awaiting them back in London. That kiss had been the most heavenly thing Drummond had ever experienced, the freedom he’d felt, the warmth of someone else’s body pressed against his. He’d kissed Florence before, he supposed that it wasn’t bad, in a kind of nothingness way, but this was something else entirely. An explosion of emotion, it was the pleasant uncomfortableness of butterflies floating in his stomach when he leaned in for that first kiss, the dred that he’d made a terrible mistake, that he’d misread the signs, that he’d found something in nothing. It was the elation when Alfred leaned in for more. That’s what Scotland would always be to him.





	Prologue

Alfred felt like such a fool, sat in Ciros waiting for someone who was never coming, what and idiot he’d been, in the end he just finished his drink and sulked his way back to the palace. He couldn’t exactly blame Drummond for not showing up, as soon as the other man had left their last dinner he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. But Alfred was terrified, especially after Wilhelmina made that remark about David and Jonathan, if anyone were to ever find out it would destroy them both, not to mention their families. In Scotland everything had seemed so simple, just the two of them standing in the perfect evening sun of a Scottish summer. But London made things complicated, the last thing Alfred wanted was for Drummond to resent him, all he had wanted was the chance to explain that.

  
However, and this included Alfred, the mood in the palace the next morning was one of overwhelming relief. The young princess was recovering well, so the Queen and Prince were obviously overjoyed which had only lifted the spirits of the Royal Household after a dark night of uncertainty. With the threat of a royal death gone it was an everyday morning, Alfred was stood making small talk with Wilhelmina whilst she practiced the piano for him, they were laughing when the Duchess arrived, taking her ever somber seat in the chair in front of the pair of friends. Before almost any time had passed at all, it seemed, Brodie came in with his little silver tray and a letter for the dear old Duchess. Alfred barely even noticed her reading it, “Lord Alfred I wonder if you would accompany me to the Amber drawing room? I’m finding the stairs rather tricky”, she asked, Alfred always thought the Duchess would have made a very good poker player, not that he ever believed she would indulge herself in such matters, but it couldn’t be denied that it was impossible to tell what she was thinking at all times.

  
“I can help you Aunt”, Wilhelmina offered.

  
“No I want Lord Alfred”, this insistence seemed strange to him, it was only helping an old lady up the stairs after all, he was sure her niece was up to the hardly arduous task.  
“I hope you’re feeling strong Lord Alfred”, she said once they were out of the room.

  
“Why Duchess would you like me to carry you”, the young man quipped back, finding the entire task an oddity worth laughing at.

  
But the Duchess wasn’t laughing, “I’m afraid you will find this very hard to bear”, she handed him the letter Brodie had brought for her, the contents of which very nearly brought Alfred to his knees. The first thing he thought was that he had to go to the hospital he had to know if Drummond was going to be okay, his Drummond, he tried to reign himself in but it wasn’t doing any good, he dreaded what the Duchess must be thinking.

  
“Take a deep breath”, she told him. His hands were shaking barley able to hold onto the letter.  
“Now another one”. Again he obliged, not sure what else to do in such a situation.

  
“Here have some of this”, the Duchess handed him a small hip flask, he had no idea what was in it, he didn’t care. The entire contents of the glass bottle had been poured down his throat in record time. That was when her face cracked, just a tiny chip in that everlasting blank expression, he could see the eyes of a women who’d lost and grieved for so many people that she’d loved, and instantly he knew that she knew exactly what Drummond was to him. Yet she was being kind and tender, there was no condemnation, judgement or hatred in any of her actions or appearances, there was only compassion from the last place Alfred would have expected it.

  
“I may be old, but I’m not blind”, she said, her voice growing softer than he’d ever heard it, “I know what he means to you”. he wanted to respond, part of him wanted to deny it, but it wouldn’t have done any good and standing in silence was all Alfred could do to stay upright.

  
“Now I suggest you go to your room and compose yourself”, she said.

  
“But”, Alfred began to object, he’d been right though and as soon as he spoke tears started to flood their way down his face, “I-I need to make sure he’s okay”, he tried to walk away, run was what he wanted to do, but before he could even think of that the Duchess had clasped her hand around his wrist, holding a surprisingly strong grasp for an ageing noblewoman.

  
“This is what you shall do. You will go to your rooms, then in a half an hour you and I will meet the Queen and wait for news on his condition”, the Duchess must have been able to see the pain in his eyes, “There is nothing you can do for him, and rumours will do him no good”. Logically he knew she was right, but what if that God awful dinner was the last chance he’d get to speak to him, he couldn’t let things end like that, like it really was some indiscretion that needn’t be worried about. He wished he could take it all back, if God could grant him one wish he’d wish for their…he didn’t even know what to call it, affair wasn’t the right word, although it seemed to be the one the world had carved out for them. In the end he supposed that his wish would bee for Drummond to live long enough to see that change.

—————————————————————————

Scotland had been so perfect, the dancing and the divine midsummer’s evenings, it was simple, uncomplicated by the politics and polite societies awaiting them back in London. That kiss had been the most heavenly thing Drummond had ever experienced, the freedom he’d felt, the warmth of someone else’s body pressed against his. He’d kissed Florence before, he supposed that it wasn’t bad, in a kind of nothingness way, but this was something else entirely. An explosion of emotion, it was the pleasant uncomfortableness of butterflies floating in his stomach when he leaned in for that first kiss, the dred that he’d made a terrible mistake, that he’d misread the signs, that he’d found something in nothing. It was the elation when Alfred leaned in for more. That’s what Scotland would always be to him. Everything else that happened that night was second to that one perfect moment, even the way the sun set in the background as they lost themselves in each other’s eyes, finally no more stolen glances. The sneaking upstairs, trying not to giggle like school boys as they drunkenly crept passed the hum drum sounds of the still open hall. That night they’d explored every inch of each others bodies, grabbing and caressing every spot like it was the only chance they’d get, and when the sun rose it shone the most beautiful halo of light around Alfred like the universe was showing him a sign that everything was going to be fine at last.

  
How wrong he’d been. All he could remember was seeing the gun, then he’d jumped, right out in front of it, as fast as he’d been able. Most men would’ve thought the action brave, and he guessed that it was really, but all Drummond could think of when he woke was Alfred, he’d missed their dinner and no one would’ve even thought to tell him why. As he tried to get up he felt a sharp pain in his chest and abdomen that quickly spread to the rest of his body, forcing him to slam back down on the bed, a young woman dressed in a grey and white nurses uniform hurried over telling him that he, “Must rest after such an ordeal”, finally, and after much fussing, the stern woman agreed to prop him up into a more comfortable and he had to say more dignified position. The first people, of course, allowed into see him were his Mother and Florence and he was more sure now than he ever had been about what must be done, he knew that he hadn't been pulled back from the brink of death to spend the rest of his life living a lie.  
—————————————————————————

The relief Alfred had felt when they were told Drummond had been given the all clear was unlike anything he’d ever felt, he gave the Duchess a reassuring nod. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she was right about making sure to not act in a way anyone might deem suspicious, for better or for worse that was the world they lived in and if he wasn’t carful they’d end up right along side Drummond’s assailant in Newgate prison. But they’d been waiting around for hours, hoping, praying that they’d get some news, any news soon. So even the Duchess was smiling, to this extent Alfred figured he had at least some leeway with his emotions, for a moment at least, for God’s sake Peel had hugged him which was strange to say the least. The Queen and Albert had retreated to check on the Princess, so the Duchess took it upon herself to tell them the good news, leaving only Alfred, Peel and Wilhelmina in the room.  
Sir Robert was, on the outside at least, even more keen to see Drummond than Alfred was, part of him wanted to be jealous. Not that he thought that Peel could possibly feel for Drummond the way he did, but that he could be so free with his affections, whilst he had to hide them away.

  
The carriage ride to the Hospital was nerve racking to say the least, it had suddenly dawned on Alfred that he was going to have to see Drummond, bruised and broken, lying in a hospital bed and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with such a sight. Not to mention that they hadn’t spoken since Drummond had walked out on dinner, maybe he wouldn’t want to see him. When they got to the hospital Alfred was surprised to not see anyone already with him, surely his mother and fiancé would have been doting at his bed side. But it was just Drummond alone on a hospital ward, he was such a ghastly shade of pale, like all the life had been drained from him, although he seemed to smile a little when he saw Alfred and Sir Robert arrive. The Prime Minister started yelling, demanding that Drummond be put in a private room, condemning the gall of the staff for putting the man who had saved his life on the general ward. Unsurprisingly Drummond was quickly whisked off to his own room before Alfred could say two words to him. The truth was that his heart was breaking, it was one thing to hear that Drummond had been shot, but to actually see the aftermath of it was unbearable.

  
It seemed like an age until Peel finally left them alone, Alfred appreciated the private room because it meant that there was nothing stopping him from making sure Drummond knew exactly how he felt. Normally he wouldn’t have dared but after everything that had happened he couldn’t resist clutching his hand round Drummond’s, letting out a long sigh of relief as soon as he felt the warm touch of the other man. Finally this felt real.

  
“I’m - I’m sorry I missed our dinner”, Drummond said, fumbling over his words.

  
Alfred couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Yes, well we never did get to have our champagne and oysters”, he said, “Perhaps when you’re more recovered”. But the echoes of laughter faded away and a tear escaped Alfred’s eye and rolled it’s way down his cheek, trying to burst open the floodgates of his emotions.  
“Alfred what i-is it?” his voice was laboured, it was clearly difficult for him to speak.

  
“For a terrible moment I thought I might loose you”, Alfred whimpered, “Worse than that it would’ve happened and I would’ve never been able to tell you how I really feel”. He’d buried his emotions for so long that now everything was spilling out at once, like a hurricane that couldn’t be tamed. But he couldn’t say it there, he wanted a happy memory of that moment not one so marred with pain.

  
So, “Where’s Florence?” Was what he said instead, “I would have thought she’d be here?”

  
“She was”, said Drummond, breaking his eyes away from Alfred, “But she left, after I broke off the engagement”.

  
“Drummond I - ”, he didn’t know what to say.

  
“No, it was my decision, I almost died, and I won’t live pretending to be something I’m not”, he declared, it finally occurred to Alfred that Drummond wasn’t breaking off his engagement for him, he was doing it for himself.

  
“Well then, I cannot argue with that”, is what he finally decided upon a moment of contemplation, keeping an even tighter clutch on Drummond’s hand than he had done before.

—————————————————————————

Alfred had gotten into the bad habit of sleeping in the chair in Drummond’s room, he was sure the staff found it odd, but after Peel’s outburst Drummond was sure they didn't want to risk saying anything that might offend. Normally he would leave early in the morning before anyone could ask too many questions only to return again in the evening. However, one day he overslept and to both their surprise the person he ran into on the way out was Prince Albert. Drummond had heard him give an awkward, “Your Royal Highness”, from outside the door, but knowing it was coming didn’t make it any less strange when the Prince walked into his room.

  
“It is good to see you are doing better Mr Drummond”, said the Prince, as reserved as always.

  
“Thank you your Royal Highness”, Drummond replied, echoing his lovers words.

  
“I have heard that you have left the employment of Sir Robert. Yes?”

  
“Yes sir”.

  
“Then how would you feel about taking up a position in my Royal Household, I’m in need of a personal secretary and I think you would do quite nicely”. Drummond was gobsmacked, he had worked for powerful men before, even before Peel but the Prince Consort of England was something else.

  
“Are you quite sure sir?” Drummond asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.

  
“You have proved yourself a devoted servant, beyond what most men would consider necessary, I can not think of anyone better for the job”.

  
It seemed to be settled then, once he was recovered he was being discharged not to downing street but to Buckingham Palace. Alfred was overjoyed at the prospect of them both being in the Palace all of the time, rather than just odd moments here and there, and it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed Drummond’s mind as well. He was getting sick of being in hospital truth be told, but even on his release he still wasn’t a hundred percent. The bullet had gone through his abdomen and into his chest, his entire body ached all of the time and he was still struggling to walk and the Doctors had prescribed bed rest until he was fully healed. The first night in the Palace, he heard a faint nock on the door, he hadn’t been able to muster the strength to get up and lock it after the physician had left so Alfred was able to walk in without any problems. That night they’d just laid there together, wrapped up in each others arms, the odd kiss here and there, both so pleased to finally have this.

  
It was the moment Alfred had been waiting for, filled with nothing but pure joy, “I love you”, he said.

  
“I love you too”, Drummond replied, and nothing else needed saying.


End file.
